Mercy
by Sindie
Summary: Severus Snape is left for dead in the shack after Harry leaves. Hours later, he still somehow clings onto life, and this may be what was going through his mind.


Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters are copyright of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros., and they were used without permission. However, they were used with consideration and with no intention of making money. This story is simply an appreciative fan's attempt at writing something to contribute to the world of Harry Potter.

Author's Notes: This story is a response to Sayurikemiko's drawing, "One Last Memory." You can view it here: sayurikemiko . deviantart . com / art / DH-SPOILER-One-Last-Memory-92051730 (remove spaces) Basically, Severus Snape is left for dead in the shack after Harry leaves. Hours later, he still somehow clings onto life, and this may be what was going through his mind. Please look at her artwork, as that is what inspired this one-shot!

Completed August 2008.

Email comments to sindie11(at)yahoo(dot)com.

Rated PG for thematical reasons.

Sindie Presents a Harry Potter Fanfic:

Mercy

Everything sat still around him. The shack which normally moved and creaked as if it were alive seemed to have died with him, although he was not yet dead. To the world, he was dead, and that, he supposed, was what defined his death.

He wondered how breath still claimed him, how life could continue in its cruel, mocking vein, as it always had, leaving him lying on the dusty, worn floorboards of the place of a childhood nightmare. His breaths were shallow, a wheezing sound escaping from his constricting chest with every painful intake and exhalation of air.

He was sure that in death he would be remembered as many things, but none of them good. A traitor. A murderer. A liar. A coward.

Some of his precious memories of her gone, he could now only see glimpses of her green eyes, but they glared in judgment. He had hoped, obviously now in vain, that seeing her eyes in him would be the last sight he beheld.

But there was one memory that played out on the stage of his memory bank. He was in his seventh year at Hogwarts, sitting on the dewy grass on a spring day, his time at the school as a student nearly at an end. He could still hear her giggles and see the smile on her pretty face as the sun shone down upon her, the wind playing with that dark red hair of hers. Her hand, and her heart, was claimed by another, by his nemesis, and he watched from the shadows of a weeping willow as she walked away with him, walking out of his life forever.

He had hoped...

Hope. What a pitiful, useless commodity.

Fate granted him no respite. There would be no peace for him.

Then he heard it.

Off in the distance, a boom, and through the grimy glass of the single window, he saw flashes of light, brilliant in their vibrancy, pouring in and decorating the ceiling, accompanied by booming explosion after booming explosion.

These were not the sounds of curses and death. These were the sounds of a celebration.

How long had it been since he last saw those green eyes... and which ones, at that?

Only a few hours in one case... several years in another.

Try though he might, he could not move from his spot on the floor. His blood would long mark the site of his demise, like chalk outlining a corpse on a paved street. His head was tilted back, leaving his eyes to stare at the ceiling, but with extreme care, he forced his chin down a couple of centimeters and refocused his eyes on the window.

He needed to know who was celebrating. Who had won.

Over Hogwarts castle, the fireworks continued. There was no sign of the Dark Lord looming over the dark spires in the night.

Then he saw it.

A large "W."

This display was the product of the infamous Weasley Whizzes, or whatever those troublemakers had called their inventions.

So Potter had defeated the Dark Lord. There was no other reason for this celebration.

Unable to stand the agony from this position, his head eased back, and he found himself staring at the blackened ceiling again, but around him, the sounds began to fade, and his eyes were unable to focus, even in this darkness. His senses were failing him, and he realized that death was finally taking its own.

Mercy, perhaps, was upon him.

He had not the strength to pull his lids closed. The darkness dominated.

In time, or more likely removed from and out of time itself, the darkness dissipated into murky shades of grey, swirling like memories in a Pensieve. When the mist cleared, sheer white claimed what essence of him existed, for he wasn't sure of his form any longer.

Staring back, not more than a meter away, were two green orbs, glistening with unshed tears and glowing with warmth. That warmth seemed to breathe out and spread, encircling him, embracing him, welcoming him, and even loving him in a way he had never experienced.

"Severus."

"Lily."

There was mercy, after all.


End file.
